


I Spy

by key



Category: Lost
Genre: Gen, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2009-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/key/pseuds/key
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Halloween ficlet for thequillstation's spooky Lost fic battle, for the prompts: Richard, costume shop</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Spy

Things didn't usually get to Richard, but the inaccuracy of most of the costumes irritated him. The only thing worse than the inaccurate costumes were the accurate ones. All the different styles through the years and the memories—good and bad—that went with them. Richard gave the historical section a wide berth.

He shouldn't be in the biggest costume shop in Portland, shouldn't be off the Island at all. Richard never expected such frivolity from Ben. Halloween, dress up, candy, and trick-or-treat. The girl had read about it in a book, and insisted until she got her way. Ben had no one to blame but himself for indulging her.

Richard piled up costumes of all sizes. He could have easily gotten by with less, but he never wanted to be tasked with this again, so he'd fill the sub to bursting if he could. Richard stoically endured the overenthusiastic saleswoman, and he'd almost escaped when he saw it carelessly piled on a table marked 'Accessories'.

A navigator's sextant, nearly identical to one he'd lost years ago. He picked it up off the table and looked for the omnipresent 'Made in China' label, though the familiar coolness of the metal and wood should have told him he wouldn't find it.

His old master had long been dust, but Richard could hear "More than your life is worth, boy!" just as clearly as the day he'd first said it. With shaking hands he raised the telescope to his eye, sighting the deck of a ship long run aground instead of a wall of garish women's clothing. Dreading to keep looking, but unable to tear his eyes away, Richard turned slightly and saw them. Dead faces, rotting flesh, reaching hands, and their empty, accusing eye sockets. Richard threw the instrument down on the table ignoring the voice of the woman yelling after him as he ran out of the store.

Ben could buy his own damned costumes.


End file.
